


One Braver Thing

by havisham



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousins, Forgiveness, Friendship/Love, M/M, Remix, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/pseuds/havisham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are all sorts of bravery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Braver Thing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrkinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In Daylight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342) by [mrkinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrkinch/pseuds/mrkinch). 



He half-tottered on an uncertain knee, when it came time to kneel. 

Maglor’s hands steadied him, giving support, invisible to all but himself. The twins, on his other side, look around. They were curious, and still close enough to childhood to seek things out boldly, when the older and wiser shy away. But if they looked for old playmates, they find none here. 

His other brothers have demonstrated their unhappiness, loudly and often in the past few days. And it still lingered, unvoiced but palpable. It dug at his back, as sharp as a dagger of his father’s own forging. 

He had quelled them with one look, checked their mutinous words, but it changed not of the contents of their hearts. Behind closed doors, he would offer more concessions, but it was important, vital to present a united front. 

Fingolfin, no stranger to political posturing, bade him to speak. 

Maedhros, always singular, stood straight, despite the pain, and asked -- but did not beg -- for his uncle’s forgiveness. He offered replacement of possessions lost on the ice -- horses, clothes, food. 

There were things that Maedhros, son of Fëanor, could not replace, of course... 

Turgon, son of Fingolfin, who stood at the left of his father, frozen still. Fingon, also son of Fingolfin, stood to his father’s right. He watched his cousin speak, a slight smile on his lips. 

\+ 

Once they were alone, and for only short time at that, Fingon rushed forward, his face radiant with joy. His arms snake around Maedhros’ waist and though he shorter than Maedhros by almost a half a hand's-breadth, he was broader, and could, if he wished, lift him up with the force of his own feelings. 

Maedhros extricated himself with some difficulty, and gave his cousin a wry look. He went right to the heart of the matter, they had no use for formalities between them. 

"Caranthir calls you a mutilator, a thief.” Fingon’s hand shot out, circled Maedhros’ right wrist. A light touch, tentative, yet bold. Maedhros went on like nothing had happened. “He says that it would have been better if I had died, whole, and we kept our goods and pride. Do not be happy where he can see."

Fingon said, unabashed, “Am I so selfish as that?” 

“Oh, yes.” Maedhros’ voice took on a teasing air. “Even more so as my Fingon than as Fingolfin's son." 

“ _Your_ Fingon,” said his cousin with a laugh. 

Maedhros smiled. 

It was moment as bright as the memory of the Trees.


End file.
